West Point Island is, not surprisingly given its name, on the western side of the Falkland Islands or Islas Malvinas as the Argentinians call it.
We approach from the south west with the weather, but rounding the island arrive in a small, horseshoe bay, surrounded by bright yellow gorse and populated by half a dozen small dwellings. Just four people live on the island, but the owner who is now 82 years of age is living in the capital Stanley, several hours away by boat.
The island is not particularly high, but on the western side atop weathered cliffs is a black-browed albatros colony with a dramatic backdrop of cliffs and breaking waves.
The farmer gives some of us a ride in his aging Landrover up to the top of the hill - it's about a two kilometre walk, but once the rest of the ship arrives, it's a crowded location so I catch an empty Landrover back down the hill and scout around the picturesque bay. There's a wonderful cylindrical barn and a small wrecked boat to shoot.
I'm using my neutral density filter to produce a little blur on the surrounding water when the sun disappears behind a cloud. Within a minute I'm underneath a squall of sago snow - it's almost large enough to be hail and it hurts when it hits my face. The landscape is transformed, but within 15 minutes the sun is back again and we return to 'normal'.
After seeing the albatros, everyone is invited into the farm house for tea and cakes. What a wonderful spread of food - with my sweet tooth I am in heaven. I wait around until everyone leaves and then ask one of our hostesses if I can take her photograph.
Next: Steeple Jason